


Scarlett

by aussieLover



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Gotham City Sirens (Comics)
Genre: College AU, F/F, Freeform, Meet-Cute, bc selina be that way, harley is a sk8r boi, idk what to call this au without spoiling it, pam didn't say see u l8r boi, rated for excessive language, selina is a classy tramp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-04-23 02:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussieLover/pseuds/aussieLover
Summary: Pam's first time in LA.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first time in this fandom. bite me if you don't like it
> 
> also I listened to like six beach boys songs while writing this

Sunlight agreed with Pamela, but this was too much.

She and Selina touched down at LAX four hours ago. Spring Break. Hurrah. When her best friend had voiced her desire to visit Pamela’s side of the country she imagined somewhere more temperate-marine and less semiarid. She would have objected to the trip but Selina left her no choice when she marked them both down as vacating their dormitory at GSU for the week. At least if she was going to be cooped up in a room with Selina it would be larger than 13 by 13 square feet and with a private bathroom. 

Pamela surveyed her surroundings; they were walking along the cycling lanes on Ocean Ave in Santa Monica. Minutes from the beach with iconic Los Angeles palm trees every few feet, Pamela felt like she was walking through a post card. She could hear faint strains of "It's My Party" calling from the shore which was then followed by "I Get Around." It couldn't be any more idyllic if she were in the 60s. It would have been relaxing, should have been relaxing. But Pam was... overstimulated.

Everyone was so happy here. Helpful. Welcoming. Engaging. Entirely too willing to encroach on her personal space. While Selina was ready to flirt with anything with two legs, Pamela was a bit less receptive. She had already yelled at several young men who were clearly accustomed to whooing ladies with their model-esque physique ("No, I have zero desire to see or take a ride on your surf board"). Selina accused her of cockblocking and forbid her from speaking in the presence of all men for the rest of the trip ("Just cuz you don't want the D doesn't mean I can't have fun").

Additionally, her eyes were still not used to the excess UV waves. It transformed her pupils into minuscule pin pricks surrounded by a vivacious, acidic green.

“Can you ditch the RBF? ‘Psycho killer’ only looks good on you in Gotham,” Selina was currently spinning, trying to find the best selfie angle that would capture her without throwing the shadow of her phone into sharp relief across her face - a tough task with the sun blazing down from directly overhead.

“Psycho killer seems to be popular here,” Pamela remarked, observing an unusual popularity for the color black amongst passerby hipsters. And this was coming from a woman who had spent the past three years living underneath suffocating skies in a city hellbent on maintaining its monochrome color scheme.

"Well you're killing my vibe and I feel SCRUMPTIOUS. Like Demi Moore in that Charlie's Angels movie. Oh! Pammy we need to find a third babe to complete this unholy trinity."

Now that... Pamela wouldn't object to.

At that moment, Pam locked eyes with a gorgeous blonde skateboarding by. Time slowed as she took in the girl from flirty pony tail to devastatingly short short-shorts to beaten-up Chucks.

And then the girl crashed into a lamppost.

"Fuck." Instinctively Pam ran over to the pile of sprawled-out limbs that was the girl.

 _Fuck meeee._ The girl was even more delicious up close. Behind thick-rimmed glasses were bright blue eyes, staring straight into Pamela's core with disorientation and maybe something more. Her mouth was hanging open and Pamela couldn't help but notice the girl's bottom lip was immaculately fuller than her top.

Somehow, her wits won over and she managed to vocalize, "Are you all right?"

The girl didn't respond, but continued to gape at Pamela. What... what was it? Did she have something on her face..?

Finally she heard the girl's voice, "I... I... owwwwwwwww," she groaned before throwing her hand to her forehead, where a redness was making itself prominent. 

Her response triggered forth the biology student in Pamela; she helped the girl up and led her to a nearby bench, then took out her phone. She turned on the flashlight.

"Look here," she held up her hand and shined the flashlight into the girl's eyes and observed the dilation.

"No concussion, does it hurt anywhere else?"

"Um... here," the blonde touched her collar bone, "ow!"

"Okay," Pamela looked at her seriously, "are you okay with me touching you?"

The girl's response was immediate, "yeah absolutely, I mean sure," she nodded assertively.

"All right, stay very still," Pamela instructed.

She wasn't sure if she imagined the tiny gasp as she trailed her fingertips across the girl's clavicle, her touch deepening with the most minuscule pressure until... "Ah!"

"There's a chance it could be just bruised but I think your collar bone is broken."

"It is!? Oh no... oh my god," the girl's breathing escalated. 

"Hey," Pamela reassuringly gripped the girl's shoulder opposite of the injury, "you're going to be fine. Do you want me to call an ambulance? Or car to the hospital?"

"No... I... I don't have health insurance. I'm on my own right now and don't have everything totally worked out and I can't afford an ambulance or a doctor or any of this so I can't have a broken collar bone!" She said this all impossibly quickly, voice rising in pitch with each word.

This time Pamela gently gripped both shoulders, redirecting the girl's attention. "What's your name?"

"Harley. Harleen. Harley, you can call me Harley."

Pamela melted at the cute name. "Harley, I'm going to help you. You're going to be fine, mmkay?"

Harley nodded back at Pam with wide eyes and all the trust in the world.

Pamela looked over at Selina... who was three moves into her Hook, Line, and Suck Me routine with not one but two Abercrombie rejects. Her head was thrown back in laughter at what Pamela guessed was probably not at all a funny joke, with one hand pressed into the pectoral of the first boy, another hand laced through the hair of the second. _Dammit, Selina._ She was gonna kill Pam for what she was about to do.

"Harley, I'll be right back. Don't move, okay?"

Pam beelined for Selina, grabbed her hand and dragged her away from both boys - who were now looking thoroughly dumbstruck. Pam smiled placidly at them both.

"Pam. What the fuck!"

"I need your scarf."

"What!?"

"I need your scarf, give it to me right now."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to wrap my ass in at Coachella?"

"I'm sure you'll find something else. The scarf. It's an emergency."

"The fuck kind of emergency is worth ditching two hotties and giving away my scarf."

"This girl," she nodded to indicate Harley on the bench, "she got hurt. Just please. I'll buy you a new one."

"You better this shit's Saint Laurent." Pam rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Any brand. It's yours."

Selina dug through her Mary Poppin's bag and produced the scarf. Pamela snatched it and was on her way back to Harley when she heard Selina shout, "This better be worth it, Pamela!"

Pam returned to Harley who was now looking shiftily back at Selina as she returned to her suitors.

"I'm going to make a sling for your arm. It will limit your movement but should help with not agitating your fracture. The good news is you don't need to see a doctor for an injury like this. It will heal on its own as long as you avoid strenuous activity. Think you can do that?"

"No st.. no strenuous activity, got it," Harley stuttered as Pamela began delicately wrapping her arm in the makeshift sling.

"You're going to want to sleep on your back. And though I don't think you have a concussion it might be good to avoid sleeping for 12 hours, just in case. And no hot showers right now, because I can already see the inflammation."

"Cold showers. I can do that," Harley volunteered eagerly.

Her voice became small. "How long will it take to heal..."

"I can't be sure. A broken rib takes six weeks to fully heal so I'm assuming it's similar to that. The majority of the healing will take place in the next two weeks. As long as you're careful you should be fine."

"How do you know all this stuff!? Are you like a doctor!?"

Pam had to suppress a shit-eating grin. "I will be."

"Well you're amazing. I dunno what I woulda done without you here."

"I'm guessing you probably wouldn't have skated into that pole," Pam winked.

_What am I doing..._

"It was worth it. I mean, I got to meet you. What's yer name?"

"PAM! ARE YOU DONE? WE'RE GOING TO THE BEACH," Selina called impatiently.

Pam closed her eyes, ducked her head, and internalized a sigh then returned, "ONE MINUTE."

"So you're Pam?"

"Pamela," she demurred. "But you can call me Pam. If you like," she was self conscious again.

"Pam. I like the sound of that. So uh... can I get your number?"

Pamela blushed. Was this... was this working?

"You know. So I can return your scarf. It looks very nice," Harley fingered the fine silk self-consciously.

"Oh. Yeah. You don't have to worry about it." _So much for that._

"Or I could take you out! To thank you? After all you definitely saved me a hospital bill."

The ends of Pamela's lips were tugged into a disbelieving smile. "I'd like that."

"PAM. GET YOUR GINGER ASS OVER HERE."

Harley happily handed Pam her phone. It was decked out, the case bedazzled with pink and blue rhinetones. Pamela quickly input her contact info and handed it back to Harley, upset this was ending but hopeful to hear from the girl.

"I've got to go. So I'll be hearing from you?"

"Definitely!"

"Bye Harley, take care."

"Bye..."

As Pam walked back to Selina and her boy toys she felt herself warming up. Los Angeles wasn't so bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previously titled, "Sisterhood of the Traveling Scarf." I was ok with that when this was a one-shot and I gave zero fucks about the continuity. guess I'm being sorta ambitious now
> 
> but full disclosure I have nfi where this is going so read at your own risk

“Pammy, you’re killing me with the heart eyes. Where’s your god-damned dignity?”

Pam checked her phone for the second time in ten minutes only to find a text from her service provider, alerting her that her payment had been accepted. Before that it was a text from campus health confirming her bi-annual check up, before then it was a selfie from Selina at a club flipping her off with a kissy face, before then it was Google informing her of her own login at the library computer. She should really opt out of automated texts... and put Selina on ‘Do Not Disturb.’

She looked over at at her roommate, currently digging through her clean bag of laundry - which had been sitting underneath her lofted bed for two weeks now. Easy for her to criticize; Selina had the time of her life on the west coast. Selina, who had probably never had to pine after anyone in her life. Not that Pam was pining. She wasn’t! It was just... rude. Inconsiderate, the way events had unfolded.

She hadn’t heard from Harley. The accident happened four weeks ago and now she was back in Gotham. Harley told Pam she’d be in touch. She sounded like she meant it. They had a moment, didn’t they?

“I’m sure you can find another pitiful power bottom in Gotham, she may not be blonde but you can make do,” Selina grunted out as she snaked her arm to the bottom of the hamper.

Pam flushed. What did Selina know about her... preferences. 

“I just thought I’d hear from her. She said she’d return your scarf. Now I have to buy you a new one, and you didn’t even buy it in the first place.”

“Clothes fit better when you don’t have to pay for them,” Selina punctuated her wisdom by slingshotting a silky thong over to Pamela’s side of the room.

-

It was half a month later when Pam finally heard from her. At this point she was only checking her phone every thirty minutes, which honestly showed superior restraint in comparison to most millennials.

She was putting the final flourishes on her end-of-term bio report when a Gotham phone number appeared on her screen. 

“Pamela Isley,” she answered expectantly.

“Heyyyy Pam. It’s me, Harley!”

Pam felt her heart drop out of her butt as she shot up from her desk. Harley?

She was speechless for a few moments until...

“Umm. Hello? You did say this was Pamela, right?”

“Oh yes. This is she.”

“Ah, er. Sorry, but d’you remember me? I’m the girl from the beach.” She waited over the line before adding helpfully, “I face planted after smackin’ into a pole.”

“Yes. Harley. I remember, I tended to your injury.” Across the room Selina sprung up from her tacky pouf and attacked Pam with a, “what the hell!?” stare. Pam ignored her.

“It’s been six weeks, I wanted to see if you were still up for going out,” she trailed off hopefully.

But... Pamela wasn’t in Los Angeles anymore. Didn’t Harley know that? She thought back to their chance meeting, surely she told her she wasn’t a resident. But...

Oh. _Ohhhhhhhhhhhh._

Pam let out a sigh made of self-hatred. “Harley, I’m sorry. I’m no longer in LA, I was only on the west coast for Spring Break.”

The silence was intolerable, she could feel Selina’s expectant gaze searing through her from behind.

Finally, Harley spoke. “Ah, sucks. I woulda hit you up way before but I wanted to be able to celebrate with ya.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I thought I did.”

At that comment, Selina launched her pink faux-fur pillow at Pamela's head, but she was too upset with herself to even retaliate.

"Well... I guess. If you're ever back in town, let me know?" Pam could tell her comment was half-hearted, a consolation prize never meant to be redeemed.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Pam paused, the misery of the situation sinking in. "Well thanks for calling, I'm glad to know you've healed."

"Yeah, thanks again. I'll talk to ya... ah, sometime."

Pamela nodded to the girl who definitely wouldn't see her. A click sounded at the other end of the line. She lowered her phone pathetically.

"What. The fuck. Was that-" "Don't!" Pam twisted around and glared at Selina defensively. 

"Just don't. I fucked up. I got it." Pam hated this. Honestly, it would have been better if she had never heard from Harley.

"Yeah but just in case," Selina stuck her phone in her face.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a photo of you to upload to Urban Dictionary under 'useless lesbian'."

"No you're not!"

"Bitch yes I am."

Pam's narcissism won over her defeat. "Wait, stop. At least upload a good photo of me," she insisted.

Selina leaned back with a softer expression. "You're more concerned about your looks than being the internet's poster child for 'too gay to function,' that's a good sign." Pam snorted without humor.

"I'll give you shit for this another day, but for now... don't sweat it. I meant it when I said you could find someone else here."

Someone else here... Pam glanced to her phone, a detail finally registering.

"Selina..."

"Hmm?"

"She called from a Gotham phone number."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short one bc I still don't know how to write harley lolz
> 
> note: rating changed bc every other word selina says is "bitch," "shit," or "fuck"

"Bullshit. No way. Bullshit."

Selina grabbed Pam's phone to verify the area code.

"HOLY SHIT."

They looked at each other utterly dumbstruck for a few moments.

"You have to call her back," Selina motioned to redial the number when Pam frantically smacked her arm to intercept. "No not just yet!"

"Chill out, Sappho. It's just a phone call. You've been moaning all month for this to happen."

"Not. Yet. I don't know enough about this."

"What's there to know? You found a chick you liked, somehow she likes you back. And she's from Gotham. That's a lot a coincidence in one place."

Pam's voice hit an unusual shrillness, "What do you mean _somehow!?_ "

"Nothing. You're peak lesbian spank material. Any girl would kill to munch your rug-" 

"SELINA."

"Go on. Do what you're gonna do. Stalk the shit out of her."

That's exactly what Pam was going to do.

-

Pam had unintentionally learned entirely too much about motorcycle dealerships in Gotham City this past week. Instead of checking her phone to hear from Harley, her bad habit was swapped for googling "Harley Gotham" with consistently disappointing results. The compulsion couldn't be stopped; without trying she memorized all Harley Davidson dealerships from East End all the way to Bludhaven. She even tried entering varying fields such as "Harley girl Gotham," (why on earth did motorbikes need to be painted _pink_ to be classified as fitting to be sold to women) and "Harley skateboard Gotham" (apparently a highly unfortunate accident happened in 1997 involving a teenage skater and a motorcyclist).

"Maybe it's spelled like 'Charlie,' did ya think of that?" Selina heaved her textbooks into a crate with the rest of her school belongings. Term was over and it was time for them to vacate the dormitories.

"Yes. Of course. And for the record 'Harlee' with two E's doesn't lead to anything helpful either." Pam stood next to her four perfectly packed IKEA storage boxes frowning.

"Look. Pamela. Imma be real with your ass right now. It's been a week. If you wait any longer it's gonna look creepy as fuck. It already kind of is. Just call the bitch back."

"You're one to talk, you had all week to pack your stuff and yet here we are," Pam crossed her arms in her trademark dismissal and nodded her head in indication of all Selina's crap still littering the half-empty dorm room.

"Oh I don't know I was busy having a life? A concept: you finish your exams, you go out and celebrate. You should try it some time. I got this rich boy's number downtown the other night. For all you know you could've found yourself a matching sugar mama."

Pam bristled. She. Didn't want. A sugar mama.

"I bet you could have found a cute white-haired thing - that's close enough to blonde - clutching her pearls, and," she smacked her chest mockingly, "I bet she'll even have a broken hip. How's that? With a crusty-ass name like Cheryl. Or Doris. Or Geraldine. Or Agatha. Or,"

As Selina trailed on with her unending shit list of geriatric names, something shifted for Pamela at mention of, "Geraldine." She could feel it - like a thread being tugged at the back of her mind, a small window in a door at the other side of a wide hallway, a pitch of a sound missing the word.

"Harleen," she breathed tenderly.

"-or Ethel. Or Gladys. Or Hilda. Or Martha. Or-"

"Harleen!" Pamela shouted triumphantly.

"I mean. Sure. You can fuck an old bitch named Harleen too. Creative of you."

"Stop. Harley's name is Harleen. She said so on the bench." Pam opened the browser on her phone and modified the search that had been sitting there all week.

"I think I found her."

"Ffffff really?" Selina dropped the item she was currently packing - a stuffed kitty that was "for decoration purposes only" - to peak at Pamela's phone.

"Oof. Do you know how to pick them."

Pamela found her. But this wasn't good.

The top entry was an article published by the Gotham Gazette one year ago, **_SCHOLARSHIP CANDIDATE STRUCK BY TRAGEDY, A BLOW CLOSE TO HOME._**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone is useless and gay except selina

_"-the senior gymnast fell victim to a domestic altercation, which can only be described as tragic-"_

Stop.

_"-isn't Charles Quinzel's first charge of domestic violence, having been detained briefly in 2014 and subsequently released without bail-"_

Stop.

_"-the young athlete's injuries coincided with The American Cup, leading to her withdrawal of the FIG competition-"_

Stop. 

Why couldn’t she stop reading?

Pam's mind restlessly reviewed everything she learned from the article... the one she should have never read.

Harley was supposed to go to GSU. 

If she had never been in the accident that stripped her of her scholarship and competitive career she would have attended with Pam and Selina last fall, two years below them.

Harley was from a broken home.

No good father, weak and bitten mother. But that didn't stop Harley. Like so many people, in times of crisis she clung to what she knew and was good at, and that was artistic gymnastics. Future athlete for a Division I school, marked for success since her debut at the 2015 U.S. Classic where she qualified for Nationals with her floor routine. But then that was taken from her by a man too petulant and cowardly to take his anger out on anyone else but his wife and child.

_"-reports documenting previous abuse charges show Quinzel only had a history of spousal abuse, the incident from last Monday resulting from Quinzel's daughter intervening in the altercation-"_

There was good in Harley. Pam only met her once and it was fleeting, but she was sure it was still there. A one time protector who needed to be protected. And Pam felt the urge to do so, to reach out to this girl across the country whom she knew far too much about. But her window was gone. She was in too deep and left with so many questions that would never be answered.

Distractions presented themselves to her and what was once supposed to be the pinnacle of excitement was now reduced to a task that helped her get through her week. Earlier this week she and Selina had moved into their first apartment, a simple two bedroom not far from campus.  
While she reveled in that she would finally have her own room away from Selina's sexcapades, she missed the rigor of academia. To keep herself from destructively dwelling on the intimate details of Harleen Quinzel's family life she took to nesting, channeling her obsession into homemaking.

While Pam kept house, shopped for succulents, rearranged furniture, and turned their place into something less atypically collegiate, Selina returned to her favorite summer past time: permeating Gotham's elite with sharp smiles and quick fingers, disappearing before anyone could take her name... or the inventory. Incidentally their now actually silver silverware collection was growing quite rapidly. 

This afternoon, Pam was inspecting Selina's drunkenly discarded spoils from whichever summer gala she attended the night before. The luxuries formed a unique centerpiece on their dining table. A Montblanc pen, Hermes pocket square, Gucci watch, Prada money clip, Margiela cufflinks, YSL lapel pin... all sitting in a ruby-encrusted gravy boat.

Pam recalled the number Selina wore last night in confusion, how in the world did she sneak all of this unnoticed in a ruched bodycon dress? Not that the logistics of Selina's pick-pocketing ever made sense to her.

_Bzzt._

Pam drew her phone from her pocket, she had a new text waiting for her stored under the contact name, "Power Bottom."

Scandalized and anticipating the worst, she opened the text.

_"oh wow, hey! ya its harley. i didnt even notice with the gotham number thing. that is craaazy. sry for the late response, late night"_

Harley? Before Pam could process her words she caught up to the previous text.

_"Hi Harley, this is Pamela. I meant to text you a few weeks ago but I couldn't find your number in my call history. I realized just now I was looking for an LA area code. Is this you? If so, small world. I'm from Gotham."_

Pam read it. And read it again. Read the text exchange. Read the text exchange again. But still couldn't make sense of it. This looked like something Pamela would write. This seemed like something she would say, had debated on saying, fantasized about saying, but most definitely did not say. Unless, no. She hadn't been inebriated since last week, when she and Selina downed dual bottles of Merlot in one sitting to celebrate their off-campus independence. The text was sent last night...

Her eyes scanned the contact entry, "Power Bottom." Then it hit her.

Selina.

_FUCKING._

Pam stormed to her roommate's side of the apartment. She heard a giggling behind the door. And she gave absolutely zero fucks about it.

She shoved the door open and there Selina was in her hungover glory - bedhead, dark circles, faded makeup, and lazily holding her phone over her face. Pam heard... meowing? Dress off, underwear on, Selina snatched the sheets to cover her semi-naked body.

"Pam what the hell!"

"What did you do!?" she demanded.

"It's two in the fucking afternoon can you stop yelling," Selina's normally sharp voice had a dry quality as she rolled away from Pam.

Ignoring that, Pam stuck her phone in her face, "What is this!"

Selina gave a half-assed grin. "I see Power Bottom got back to you."

"When did you do this? WHY did you do this? You had no right to-"

Selina sat up, "To just do the damn thing you've been wanting to do for weeks? You're welcome by the way."

"That was my decision to make."

"Yeah well you never made it and I got tired hearing you harp on about it."

"How did you even do this?"

"Can I just watch my cat videos in peace. You left your laptop out. There's a messaging and contact app on it. Your phone is linked to your laptop. We good now?"

"No because you shouldn't have messaged her AS ME."

"Pam-meh-luh. Something had to be done. You were getting swim fan-y with this chick. You probably already know her middle name, favorite color, and blood type."

Pam couldn't help recalling, _according to the article it's "Frances," pink and blue judging from her cell phone cover and gymnastic outfits, and there's no way to know her blood type without actually becoming a stalker. Which I'm not._

"It was still my decision."

"All right dumbass, when you pull your head out of your vag you'll realize I did you a favor."

"The saying is, 'head out of your-'" 

"I said what I said."

-

When Pam angrily retreated to her room she accessed her situation.

Harley wrote to her. That was done. She had to respond back now.

Should she tell her?

She briefly considered what could follow, _"hey sorry, my roommate took my phone-"_ yeah no. Not happening.

So what could she say?

First, she could change her name in her phone.

After switching her contact info to just Harley, Pam reread her text.

_"sry for the late response, late night"_

She subtracted two time zones. It should be noon in Los Angeles now. What kept her up last night?

_"Hi Harley, I'm glad this was the right number. Don't worry about replying late, what kept you out last night?"_

Simple enough. She pressed send.

She got a response within the hour.

_"ya ya, its cool to talk to you too!! and i was working. sometimes i work nights"_

Not a ton to respond to, maybe she shouldn't be trying to talk to Harley. But she persisted.

_"What do you do?"_

This time her response was much sooner.

_"im a courier. do lotsa time sensitive deliveries. its why i had my board with me that day i.. ya know lol"_

Pam couldn't stop herself, _"Oh? So you're telling me you run into poles all the time then"_

_". . ."_

_"no i dont! i was distracted"_

_"Really, by what?"_

_"your really gonna make me say it arent ya"_

_"I have no idea what you're talking about"_ (Pam totally had an idea).

It was a few minutes before Harley's next message.

_"I saw a really pretty girl, she was really nice to me after I hit the pole too"_

_Proper capitalization and punctuated noted._

Pam stared at Harley's text fondly and gathered her car keys. She needed to buy Selina a designer scarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all have those chapters that say, "FUCK YOU IN PARTICULAR" and this one was that for me hope none of you (all 2 of you) noticed


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly it's so difficult to not make every piece of selina's dialogue a line from kreayshawn's "gucci gucci"
> 
> also sry for the delayed update, tho to be fair this chapter basically doubled the fic length

Pam dropped the black, emblazoned bag in front of Selina with slowed and deliberate intent.

"Barneys? Does this mean you're over your pussy riot?"

Pam bit down, committing to stay civil. This was supposed to improve their situation. She could spare some patience towards Selina's residual cattiness. She took a breath.

"Thank you for texting Harley."

Selina's ice queen exterior didn't budge one bit. She was curled up on an armchair over twice her size but somehow didn't look small.

"Thank you for texting Harley, and?"

Selina really loved having her cake and eating it too.

Pam submitted. She sat down on the ottoman in front of Selina, but couldn't look her in the eyes when she said, "And I'm sorry I got upset with you. You were only trying to help."

"I _succeeded_ in helping," she paused before adding, "now tell me how that's going, you've had the dumbest smile on your face when texting and don't realize I'm in the room. Kinda reminds me of your klutz in LA." 

She reached forward for the Barneys New York bag and pulled out a YSL scarf.

"Fall 17?" she asked, appraising the fluid-like material as she ran her fingers through it with admiration.

"Of course, I don't do anything halfway," Pam announced, chin lifting ever so slightly.

"Except for texting," Selina whipped her in the face with the scarf. "So?"

Pam braced herself. It was going to be weird talking about a girl with Selina. Talking about a girl. Not that she ever spoke to her about a man, unless it was with distaste. But, she liked Harley. And that felt like something that could be taken away or tainted. 

But Pam could be the one to mess that up, not Selina.

"So," she deflated slightly, perfect posture giving away to the ottoman, "we text a lot. But not as much as I want to. She likes Los Angeles, but she's still getting accustomed to living there and being around all the 'pretty people,' as she says. We haven't talked about her family or the incident. She told me she moved to LA for something different and she's taking it day by day. She makes a lot of jokes, but she's always leaving conversations abruptly, I guess because of her job."

"What's that?"

"Deliveries."

Selina snorted, "Looks like Harley needs a Harley. Or maybe a crotch rocket, what do you think Pammy?"

Pam tried not to think too indulgently of Harley's thighs clenched around anything starting or ending with "crotch," but damn if Selina didn't know how to fuck with her.

"LOORRRD, gay it down, all I said was 'crotch rocket'."

"I don't mind the skateboard," Pamela said as if the last 15 seconds hadn't occurred.

"Okay. So. She's flighty. What else, what do you guys talk about? Has she sent you nudes yet?"

Pam's brain short circuited. "What? I... what!? No!"

Selina rolled her eyes. "Hun I know you're not from the city but this is slow, even for your late, lesbian ass. Get the ball rolling. Has she sent anything else? Any suggestive photos? A crop top? Bikini? Something?"

Now Pam felt self conscious. Harley hadn't sent her any photos... but she hadn't sent any to her either. 

"What the fuck have you guys been doing?"

"We just talk. Like normal people. Civilized people-" she couldn't finish her defense as Selina yanked her arm and dragged her to the window. "Stand here," she ordered.

Selina twisted her by the shoulders, tugged her hair forward, pulled her chemise down, and Pam flinched with every touch. Selina stepped back and pointed her phone at her.

"Look at me but don't smile. Smile, but don't smile," she instructed before snapping a photo. Pam wondered what the everloving fuck that was supposed to mean. She guessed she got it wrong because Selina grimaced at the photo on the screen. "Okay. Do it again but try not to look constipated. Also, pout."

Round two must have worked because Selina texted her the photo immediately. "There, send that to her."

"Just... send it to her? What do I say to warrant sending a photo of myself randomly?"

"Jesus Christ. I really have to do everything for you. Tell her it's for your contact photo. She's definitely saved your number by now if you've been texting all week."

Sound advice. Pam did just that.

"Pamela, you need help. I know you ain't after the D but you could use some practice. That rich boy I've been seeing wants me to attend a charity auction tomorrow night. His best friend will be there and I've volunteered you to be his reverse beard."

"I'll do no such thing!" Pam hadn't been on a heterosexual date ever and she wasn't going to start now.

"Yeah you will. Because your flirting royally fucking sucks and you need to step it up. Do it for your dear delivery boy."

At that moment, Harley texted Pam.

_"you can have one for me too xx"_

Pam was lost for words. In the three months she hadn't seen Harley her memory had done her a disservice. There she was, impossibly stunning in pixelated form - golden blonde hair, glowing tan skin, energetic blue eyes, luscious rosy lips.

"Wow she actually looks like you're not robbin' the cradle in this one."

"She's not that young," Pam stressed defensively.

"She's practically a minor. She can't even party with us."

"That never stopped you."

"TRUE. Speaking of, you're coming to the auction tomorrow."

Pam weighed her situation. She knew Selina wouldn't actually force her to come but she had a point, Pamela could stand to be better at this whole flirting thing. And Selina knew what she was doing, Harley texted her back! And now Pam had this gorgeous photo of her. Taken just for her, from the looks of it. She stared at Harley's image on the screen.

"All right. I'll go."

-

This time, Selina dropped a bag in front of Pamela.

She looked accusingly at her, laid back in bed and fixated on her phone.

"Texting her?"

"No..." Pam replied guiltily.

"Staring at her photo?"

Pam cleared her throat, "What's in the bag?"

"This dress is too big for my ass. Which means it's perfect for you."

Pamela pulled out a pale maxi dress that definitely would have flooded Selina's hips. Conservative. Elegant.

"So who am I'm wearing this for?"

"You're wearing it for me, yourself, and some darling dumbass with cash is gonna think it's for him tonight."

"And that dumbass is...?"

"Whoever Bruce Wayne is besties with."

Pam was too shocked to correct Selina's use of "whoever."

"Bruce Wayne? 'Wayne Tech & Wayne Enterprises' Bruce Wayne?"

"Yep, we both have such good taste."

Pam recalled everything she knew about Bruce Wayne. Heir to an international conglomerate and one of the richest men on the planet as a result. Orphaned, strangely social despite the tragedy of losing his parents to a violent mugging. She wasn't sure she'd award him the description of well-adjusted... she'd seen a number of articles about his shenanigans. He always seemed to be up to something wild and neurotic - falling off yachts, showing up drunk to talk show appearances, passing out in public (and sometimes shady) spaces with no recollection of how he got there. He seemed like a charming guy, albeit a bit absent.

"And you're planning to steal from him?"

"Not just him, but if he has anything loose he can kiss it goodbye."

"But he knows who you are."

"No. He knows Cat, of the bourg-fuckin-eoisie. Art collector from Metropolis making her rounds in Gotham."

"And what would that make me?"

-

"And what was your name?"

"Ivy."

"Like the plant!"

"Like the person."

Pam didn't assume she'd meet the man of her non-existent dreams tonight at the Kane Mansion but Harvey Dent did not give her a positive impression from the start. Future attorney with all the annoying stereotypical traits that accompanied the profession: exaggerated sense of self-importance, argumentative, eager to whip his dick out and show off to anyone present. She had stood in front of him for three and a half minutes while he boasted to Bruce that he would be right, and the Falcones would have a bidder present at tonight's auction despite the police commissioner's newly opened investigation of Carmine's role in unresolved murders within the Gotham elite. He had only just asked Pamela her name.

"Nice to meet you, Ivy," from Selina's right, Bruce Wayne took her hand in a light and suave maneuver. "Are you also visiting from Metropolis?"

"Seattle, actually. I-" before she could reveal any more of her cover story she was interrupted by Harvey. 

"Seattle's great. Booming job market. The e-commerce trade has completely shifted the city's salary average per capita-"

Pamela now cut Harvey off, "Yes well along with that, Jeff Bezos has also increased the world's cardboard consumption by 30 million metric tons alone-"

"-Which is a mere footnote when you consider over half a million jobs created, half a million families provided for, half a million points of circulation added to our economy-"

This time, Bruce interrupted Harvey, "I played tennis with Bezos once," he said simply. They all waited for him to continue, but he didn't, only nodding enigmatically at them all. Pam didn't know what to make out of it, but she was close to walking.

 _"Ivy,"_ Selina smiled sweetly to her.

 _"Cat,"_ Pam returned.

"Let's run to the ladies room, give these boys some time to miss us," she pinched Bruce's shoulder, manicured nails lingering on his suit. Pam left with her without so much as sparing Harvey a glance.

As soon as they cleared Bruce and Harvey's hearing range, Pam demanded, "How long do I have to stay tonight?"

"He's arrogant, but not the worst you could do. Keep walking." They continued to an old fashioned powder room that was free of occupants.

"What am I supposed to do with him? He's a fratboy with a trust fund. They both are."

Selina leaned into a mirror and inspected a corner of her mouth, "It's just one night, you're here to practice for your girl in LA."

 _Your girl in LA,_ Pamela repeatedly mentally. She liked the sound of that. She stared at the golden vanities surrounding her, feeling a secondhand sense of being out of place.

"This isn't exactly Harley's scene."

"Then give her a taste," Selina pulled out a tube of lipstick from her clutch, twisted the cap off, and steadily applied it to the same corner, "take another photo and send it to her." She offered the lipstick to Pam, who didn't take it.

"But I just sent one earlier."

"Yes. Send another one. Tell her you'd like to replace the current one."

Pam inspected her reflection and tjuzzed her hair. Perhaps Harley would like to see her like this. She reached out for Selina's lipstick.

"C'mon. We have to do this quick. Give me your phone."

Selina snapped a quick shot of Pam sitting at the boudoir. She barely had time to text it to Harley with a caption, _"This one's better."_

-

Not long after they returned, Selina and Bruce split from the group, under Selina's request that Bruce show her around. While she framed it as an innocent request, Pamela knew better: Selina was making her rounds. Casing, seeing what could be taken, and weighing those possessions - comparing which would be more advantageous in monetary value in conjunction with the highly limiting constraint of space within her envelope-style clutch. Meanwhile, Pam was left with Harvey, who seemed to be campaigning ten years ahead for local office - making sure every money bag they encountered left knowing his name.

Pam survived the torturous evening by frequently ducking out on Harvey under the guise of using the restroom. She had quickly abandoned her intent to practice flirting with him and settled for manipulating him instead. She let him keep his hand around her, maintained a casually interested expression, and laughed emptily when the moment called for it. As long as she did that, he didn't question her interest or her many restroom breaks. He even seemed delighted whenever she squeezed his arm before announcing she would have to excuse herself, winking her off affectionately each time and commenting on her "delicate, feminine bladder," like some passively offensive pipe-smoking husband out of the 1950s. Unbeknownst to him, Pamela was texting Harley.

Her first visit to the restroom, she was greeted with Harley's response to the formal dress photo she sent earlier.

_"you look amazing! that dress is nicer than anything i own!!"_

_"I'm sure you look just as amazing in the proper attire, but now I'm curious to see you in your nicest outfit."_

Her second visit to the restroom, she opened a photo of Harley in her "nicest" outfit.

It was a photo of her in holey pajamas. 

_"HERE U GO"_

It was a mirror pic, and Harley had the toothiest, goofy smile. She looked quite proud of herself.

_"Not exactly what I imagined."_

She lingered on Harley's earnest face and recalled the Gazette article. It was nice to see her smile. 

_"But you look cute."_

She wanted to text more, but she had appearances to keep up. This night might be useless to her, but Selina needed a couple more hours out of her, and it's the least she could do to repay her for being supportive with the Harley situation. She spotted her roommate glaring daggers at her earlier, when she was putting up a less convincing show to Harvey.

On the way back to her "date," she saw Selina again, this time in the middle of one of her tried and tested tricks. A glint of metal dropped from the 2nd floor interior balcony.

"Oh no! My earring! That was an heirloom from my grandmother," Selina clutched her ear while leaning over a marble balustrade.

"I can get it for you," Bruce offered jovially.

"Oh, would you?" The pitch and inflection of her tone was almost comical.

Bruce grinned drunkenly, "Absolutely. Be right back," and dashed out of sight.

"Didn't know your grandmother shopped at Macy's."

Selina turned to her, completely unsurprised. "Macy's has been around longer than this mansion, so she could have, and they're from Sak's." Almost too quick for Pam's eyes, Selina tucked a flashy item into her clutch. Pam stared after Bruce's jogging form, now at the foot of the stairs.

"You shouldn't play with your food."

"Who doesn't love a game of cat and mouse?" Selina threw back at her.

"That's one big mouse, I think he'd rather be your knight in shining armor."

"My, Pamela, am I detecting sprinkles of heterosexuality here? Is your date with Harvey going that well? And I thought I spoiled you for men everywhere."

Pam flushed intensely, jerked back to a memory three years ago when Selina and her had just started at GSU - back when they were random roommates. She kept to herself and Selina was always out partying. Pam held no interest in her elusive and disruptive roommate who came and went at odd hours and apparently gave zero shits about the importance of a college education, until one day when she wordlessly returned to their dorm room and Selina welcomed her by pulling her into a kiss. It was... a good kiss. Pam's first (and only) kiss. She couldn't stop herself from responding with greed and yearning and didn't know how far she would have gone if Selina hadn't abruptly pulled away and said, "Yup. Lesbian," before walking out.

They'd been best friends ever since.

"Thinking about that kiss?"

Selina truly was the worst person alive.

"Of course I am," Pam recovered. "You just brought it up. And no. He's deplorable, a comparison to a pig would be too kind for that man-splaining idiot."

"Well you need to let him man-splain a bit longer because he's getting fidget-y and I don't like it. He's come by asking for you twice and he's nowhere near drunk enough. I have to watch him when I'm stealing from him and combined with Bruce that's two people more than I'm used to keeping track of when working."

"Working."

"Yes, working. And if you'll excuse me my shift is about to resume," she nodded at Bruce who was now marching back up, wiggling the recovered prop earring from his thumb and forefinger like a set of keys. 

"Do better with Harvey," she instructed before leaving to meet Bruce halfway, taking his arm and seamlessly inserting herself back into the circle of socialites.

-

Several fatiguing hours later, after Bruce and Harvey had dropped her and Selina off at a hotel downtown and they returned to their apartment via cab, Pam opened the best text from Harley yet.

_"not much but its all i got.."_

The dress wasn't elaborate or even super trendy, but it didn't need to be. Harley was dressed in white, and she looked like an angel. Pam mentally hit the brakes before she could imagine Harley in other white dresses. A longer white dress. With lace, or beads. She...

She didn't know what to say.

What would Selina say?

Bravely, she typed, _"You don't need much.. if that's what you have."_

Was that too heavy? She needed to divert Harley's attention. But Harley got there first.

_"speakin of what i have, i dont have a photo of you in your pjs so your turn"_

Pam smiled wickedly.

_"Maybe I can send that photo one day, but it's a bit too soon for you to see me wearing so little."_

She rolled over, content. Somewhere, about 3000 miles away, there was a young former competitive gymnast, flustered and desperately confused with what to do with newly acquired information. While Pamela swiftly fell asleep, Harley was reading and rereading the same 22 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you didn't meet bruce in this chapter, you met bruce wayne
> 
> goal is to harley pov in the next chapter or the one after
> 
> fuck ton of errors most likely, i'll correct as i see them


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry for the wait, thanks to everyone who's still here

Over the next few weeks, Pam and Harley fell into the rhythm of sending each other random photos for no reason other than the false guise of replacing their current contact photos. Selina was self-described "perpetually grossed out by this baby skank behavior" and took to hijacking Pam's messenger through her laptop again. These days Pam stopped being surprised when she picked up her phone and saw she had a text from "delivery boi," "sk8r gurl," and - after apparently seeing a particular photo of Harley in a punk-style outfit, "Debbie Harry."

Despite Selina's interference, Pam thought it was really cute, the guilelessness of it all. While she made a point of staging her photos for Harley to the highest degree and often sought Selina's approval before sending ("-jesus CHRIST I no longer give a fuck, just send it it's fine-") she could tell Harley snapped her photos with the most carefree abandon.

She had since compiled little contextual details surrounding Harley, ones she could determine from the photographs. For instance, Harley was a sort of messy person - often in her photos an article of clothing or piece of trash could be spotted lingering on the floor. Somehow, and Pamela didn't have the slightest idea how, it was charming to her.

She observed other behaviorisms that presented themselves through text, like responsiveness. Harley seemed eager to text Pamela, often responding within minutes. But there were some times where she wouldn't hear from her for hours. Every time she would be reassured that Harley was out on a job, but often these gaps in time took place later at night. Pamela calculated, even with the time difference, Harley seemed to be working late and doing so often.

She decided to ask her about it.

_"I'm genuinely curious, it seems you work late often. What sort of courier jobs do you fulfill at those times?"_

She didn't hear from Harley for hours. She wasn't... suspicious, more so concerned for the unevenness of Harley's work schedule.

_"you know, super corporate stuff. guys who work real late, no lives and all. they put their paperwork in too late to get the fedex guys on it so I hop in"_

That seemed like more of a Gotham than Los Angeles problem, but Pam could work with that.

_"So you could say you never know when you're working?"_

_"i guess not but im not bothered"_

Pam flexed her fingers around her phone, unsure whether or not to say what she wanted. 

Selina's voice chimed in her head, urging her to follow through. _Just do it, moron._

_"That's a shame. I was hoping to call you one of these nights but we won't know when you're free."_

She waited... Harley responded just seconds ago so she surely would have seen Pam's text.

She waited more...

Then something unexpected happened.

She nearly dropped her phone when it started vibrating with Harley's call. _Harley's call!_ Harley was calling her. Harleen Quinzel was calling her. She had to answer before the the call went to voicemail but she wasn't at all prepared for this.

She pressed the receiver and steadied her voice before saying, "Pamela speaking."

She heard a gleefull snorting on the other line before, "Harley speakin'!" 

Harley's laugh was downright musical.

"So what'd'you wanna talk to me about?"

"Oh. Ah, um. I just thought it would be nice to talk." Why was literally every neuron in Pam's brain failing her right now. She was set to graduate summa cum laude with a double major in biology and chemistry at GSU and already confirmed her first rotation at Gotham Mercy General and yet all of this, every bit of it, each feat of her brilliance and aptitude was useless to her in this moment.

"I guess talking is kinda nice, though I appreciate getting photos from ya all the time."

Photos. They could talk about photos.

"I appreciate your photos too, though I'm wondering which of mine have been your favorite. And which one is actually my contact photo," Pam began twisting a lock of her hair and pacing around her room.

"Hmmmm guess."

Pam had no idea, they had probably sent twenty photos back and forth in the last week. But she could tell Harley was into this game.

"What do I get if I guess the correct photo?"

"Huhhhh. Let me think on that," she imagined Harley's face twisted in comical, adorable, concentration. But what if she didn't have to imagine?

"How about this: you give me a hint, if I guess correctly, FaceTime me next time."

"Oh sure! Ummmm, it's the one where you look like an old time-y movie star."

Pam had no idea what to do with that. She was aware her face loaned itself well to classic beauty standards but she thought that was present in all her photographs. Instead she pondered which photo Harley might have chosen based on clarity.

"The first one, by the window?"

"NUPE. That's your guess for the day. I don't make the rules," she paused before adding, "But FaceTime me next time."

\--

Neither of them were expecting the doorbell to ring.

Pamela was reviewing the HEEADSSS assessment in the adolescent health chapter of her textbook, Selina was filing her nails into an almond shape. In Gotham, and certainly within proximity of a college campus, it wasn't unusual to hear police sirens, so they thought nothing of whom their visitor could be.

Pam opened the door to a female cop who could be described as agitated, to start with.

"Selina Kyle?"

Fuck. Not once since Pamela knew Selina have they ever been in this situation.

"Pamela Isley," she diverted.

"Miss Isley, I'm Officer Montoya. I'm looking for Selina Kyle, is she here?"

Swiftly she processed: 

Whatever Selina was wanted for, Pam could possibly be counted as an accomplice.

The living room wasn't visible from the foyer.

Selina kept her door closed. 

Pam could act as if she was unaware of Selina's whereabouts. 

Which could be illegal.

Pam made her decision and hoped her roommate had already retreated to her bedroom. She couldn't hear her, but she never did.

"I haven't seen my roommate today. She goes out a lot, but her car isn't back."

Selina didn't have a car.

"That's cute," the officer held out a folder, "but I have a warrant. Stand aside."

It happened in a blink. Like a hound sniffing out an escapee Montoya beelined for Selina's room, pulled her out, and then she was in handcuffs - shaken and wordless, staring after Pamela from the back of a GCPD cruiser.

_Fuck._

\--

Pam didn't wait to find out if she was the recipient for Selina's phone call. She tailed the cruiser in her Model-S. By the time she found parking around the station, she lost sight of Selina.

"Sorry, those detained aren't permitted visitors while their case awaits processing," the officer at the front desk revealed without looking at her.

"Well how long until she's processed," she persisted.

"Midnight? Morning? Depends on the case."

Useless. Truly, useless.

She tilted her head back and trained her eyes blankly at the ceiling. It did almost nothing to stay, but she doubted Selina had her cell phone number memorized. She should be here.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming photo from "Blondie."

It was a photo of Harley with a single piece of strawberry shortcake. 

_"its my LA anniversary :)"_

It was a sweet photo but it gave off a feeling of loneliness. Did Harley have no one to celebrate with? She seemed friendly enough. Pam couldn't recall Harley ever mentioning friends. Or coworkers. But then she thought, _Selina is my only friend._

They were something. All three of them. Lonely girls who didn't need each other, but needed something.

She sat down in a row of seats in the lobby of the precinct and started brainstorming what she could text back to Harley. She had time, until midnight. Maybe morning.

\--

"Thanks for waiting for me sweetheart."

Pamela awoke with a start. Someone had kicked her chair. In front of her, in all her fatigued and unkept glory, was Selina.

She stood abruptly, "They let you go?"

"They let me go," Selina sighed.

"What was that even about?"

"They tracked a watch I stole at the Kane auction. Vacheron. Guess my guy in Chinatown snitched on me."

Pam lowered her voice, "I thought you sold in that area specifically because your buyers were difficult to locate."

Selina tossed her head in frustration, "Well apparently the cops aren't racist enough and could actually identify the one guy I use."

"But you're out now. They dropped the charges."

"No," Selina looked at her with confusion. "I made bail. I thought you knew that, I thought you-"

The first door in the office corridor swung open as Bruce Wayne walked out, fastening a silver watch on his wrist.

"Selina Kyle, you're a tough cat to track down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a bottle chap, but most of this is tbh
> 
> debbie harry was a ref to harley's SS outfit btw
> 
> also anyone got any cute baby batcat (Gotham) fic recs?


End file.
